Maybe that fellow L. Ron Hubbard, who decided that a religion from outerspace had a better payback than stories about outer space? Or perhapsPhilip K. Dick, who was convinced he had been possessed by the spirit ofthe prophet Elijah? And let’s not forget Cordwainer Smith, who apparentlybelieved that he lived part-time on an alien planet.

But I insist that we add James Tiptree, Jr. to this list. August 24 marks the 100th anniversary of Tiptree'sbirth, and it is an event well worth celebrating. One ofmy favorite genre writers, Tiptree earned a shelf fullof major awards for short stories and novellas backin the 1970s and 1980s. And Tiptree's fame liveson posthumously. Three years ago, Tiptree wasinducted into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame. Everyyear the James Tiptree, Jr. Award is given to a workof sci-fi and fantasy that explores gender roles.

But there never was a James Tiptree, Jr.

When Tiptree was a rising star of the science fictionworld, any fan who tried to phone the author learnedthat no one by that name was listed in the directory.No author photos could be found on the jacket sleeves of Tiptree’s books.All requests for public appearances were declined. Influential sci-fi writersand editors who hoped to meet Tiptree in person found their overturesrebuffed.

David Gerrold, screenwriter for the famous "Trouble with Tribbles"screenplay on Star Trek, even went to Tiptree's mailing address inAlexandria, Virginia, a large rambling home in a wooded area. Knockingon the door, he was greeted by a diminutive, middle-aged woman whowas puzzled by her visitor’s request to meet James Tiptree, Jr. She hadno idea who he was talking about.

But this absence of firsthand knowledge hardly stopped the sci-ficommunity from speculating about the hot new writer on the scene.Tiptree was "a man of 50 or 55, I guess, possibly unmarried, fond ofoutdoor life, restless in his everyday existence," speculated RobertSilverberg in his introduction to Tiptree's Warm Worlds and Otherwise. Silverberg mentions in passing rumors that Tiptree might be a woman,but was quick to dismiss these suggestions as "absurd"—then added:"there is something ineluctably masculine about Tiptree's writings."

Readers who wanted the inside scoop on James Tiptree, Jr. wouldhave done better to skip Silverberg's introduction, and instead mullover the title to one of the most provocative stories in the collection,a tale named “The Women Men Don’t See.” That describes the writerof these stories much better than any of the details in the standardauthor's bio.

These smart, iconoclastic stories were actuallywritten by Alice B. Sheldon, who was almost sixtyyears old when she won her first Hugo award forthe prescient 'virtual reality' novella "The Girl WhoWas Plugged In." Sheldon had never known anyonenamed Tiptree—she found the name on a jar ofEnglish marmalade. But it suited the debonairpersona she hoped to construct for her public image.

This wasn’t the first time Alice Sheldon had adopteda secret identity. She had learned about secrecy fromthe very best teachers while working for Armyintelligence and the CIA. In later life, she found thatthese skills helped her in unexpected ways. Whenshe briefly left her husband in the mid-1950s, hestruggled to find any clue to her whereabouts—andher spouse, Huntington D. Sheldon was a high-levelCIA spy! "I used my clandestine training to disappear,"she later boasted. "In a day, I had a new name, a new bank account, hadrented a house and really destroyed all traces of my former personality."

Husband and wife later reconciled, but Alice Sheldon found that thisassumption of a new identity served as a test run for her eventual rebirthas sci-fi author James Tiptree, Jr. She later denied any attempt tomislead. "I can’t help what people think sounds male or female," shecomplained. But Sheldon clearly put as much energy into creating theTiptree persona as she did into making her finely crafted stories.

I can’t blame Silverberg for asserting the masculinity of Mr. Tiptree. Themen in Sheldon’s stories are macho and lustful. They spend a lot of timelooking at women, or concerned with fighting and weapons. As ayoungster, Sheldon had traveled extensively, visiting Central Africa,Southeast Asia and other far-flung locales, and she gave Tiptree asimilarly cosmopolitan background. Readers probably envisioned Tiptreeas a kind of sci-fi Hemingway, running with the bulls or off on an Africansafari. The occasional hints of espionage—Tiptree would turn down arequest for a public appearance because of “secret business”—impartedan additional 007-ish flavor to the author’s image.

Sheldon can hardly be faulted for this charade. We are familiar with authorswho hide their gender in order to reach a larger audience. But women inscience fiction have faced perhaps the greatest obstacles in gainingcredibility among the genre’s core audience—which has traditionallybeen dominated by young males.

Back in 1949, a major science fiction magazine surveyed its fan base,and learned that only 6.7% of its readers were female. Similar surveys fromthe 1970s, when Tiptree started gaining recognition in the field, suggestthat women had grown to around a quarter of the audience for sci-fi. Butfemale writers still struggled to find acceptance in the field—1970s surveysof 'all-time favorite' sci-fi stories gave all the top spots to men.

By taking on the Tiptree image, Sheldon bypassed the stereotypes andbiases that might have limited her otherwise. Many of her predecessorsin the field, such as Andre Norton or C.L. Moore, had already takensimilar steps. Sheldon no doubt recognized that attitudes were changingin the 1970s—in fact, she corresponded with Ursula K. Le Guin andJoanna Russ, who were enjoying success with an overtly feminist brandof sci-fi during this period. But Tiptree had a different attitude. She wassympathetic with feminism, joined NOW and at one point started referringto other women as "sisters." She had romantic entanglements with women,and saw herself as essentially bisexual. But she also delighted in her abilityto convince the leading men of sci-fi that she was one of their own. Aboveall, she took pride in her skill in constructing a double life, and was reluctantto give it up.

But eventually someone penetrated behind Tiptree’s façade. Sheldon hadshared some details about her mother, whom she had described as anexplorer living in Chicago. A fan used this information to track down anobituary from the Chicago Tribune, which identified Alice B. Sheldon asthe only survivor of Mary Hastings Bradley, a noted travel writer. The detailsof the deceased matched Tiptree's account of his mother, and the authorwas soon confronted with the results of this successful sleuthing.

Sheldon decided to publicly acknowledge her real identity. She wrote'coming out' letters to Le Guin and others, taking the opportunity toapologize for deceiving her literary friends. But like a true master spy,Sheldon disliked having her cover blown. She continued to publish worksunder the name James Tiptree, Jr. and in later days grumbled aboutresearchers who wanted to write her life story. She even asked heragent whether she could charge them money for answering their questions.

Sheldon’s final years were marred by illness, both her own and herhusband's. Her 1987 death was a shocking one—the result of a suicidepact between the couple . After first shooting her husband in his sleep,she calmly phoned her lawyer to describe what she had done, then turnedthe gun on herself. She had been talking about suicide for many years—the note she left explaining it was dated from 1979. When the policearrived on the scene, they found the two bodies side-by-side, holdinghands.

Tiptree’s reputation has been in the ascendancy since the author’s death. A full-scale Tiptree/Sheldon biography was published by Julie Phillips in2006—and won the National Book Critics Circle Award. And I suspecta Hollywood movie will eventually bring her story to an even largeraudience. If Alan Turing and Stephen Hawking deserve a bio-pic, whynot the remarkable Alice B. Sheldon?

The centennial of this author’s birth gives us an opportunity to marvel overthe extraordinary deception practiced by the most mysterious woman in20th century genre fiction. I hope it also gives a few readers an excuse toget familiar with her writing. But as much as I admire these works, I can'thelp concluding that the most impressive fictional character created byJames Tiptree, Jr. was the author himself.

Ted Gioia writes on books, music and popular culture. His latest book Love Songs: The Hidden History, is published by Oxford University Press.